


the tempest-tossed

by ladymacbeth99



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Family Reunion, Gen, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:51:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymacbeth99/pseuds/ladymacbeth99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tears mingled with Loki’s bitter laughter. If he saved Thor’s life, he would sacrifice Thor’s love forever. Surviving Svartalfheim was a crime his brother would never forgive."</p>
<p>The confrontation between Thor and his brother after Loki's "death" on Svartalfheim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the tempest-tossed

The mortals were losing this fight—badly.

Thanos cared not how long the battle for Midgard dragged on, for he wanted them to put up a fight, wanted to prolong their agony, to make their destruction a more pleasing gift to his lady, Death.

New York was in ruins. Then Tokyo. London. Delhi. Cairo. Dozens of the mortals’ so-called great cities had fallen to the Mad Titan’s armies. Their last stronghold seemed to be the nation of Wakanda, whose superior technology gave them an advantage.

Still, it seemed to Loki that Thanos was merely toying with them, giving them false hope, so as to savor his inevitable victory all the more. It was not so different when he himself was in the Titan’s thrall, occasionally given scraps of faith just so that Thanos could crush him again and again.

And yet those foolish Avengers kept on fighting as if they truly thought they stood a chance.

Normally, Loki would pay little mind to these events. What was it to him if the mortal realm was destroyed? Asgard could seal itself off, prune the diseased branch from Yggdrasil before it could spread—it need not affect them at all.

And yet—here he was, hiding on Midgard, watching it all from a safe distance. For there was _one_ valuable thing on this realm that Loki could not bear to lose.

Thor had refused to leave, to escape. He remained behind with his precious Avengers, even after the All-Father demanded he leave them for his own safety. Odin had even had the foresight to imprison Sif and the Warriors Three, to prevent them from rushing to Thor’s aid, unwilling to shed any more Æsir blood for the mortals’ sakes, still vainly hoping that Thor would accept the futility of this cause and come home. But Loki knew he never would.

_Surrender’s not in my nature._ The great fool would fight to his last breath.

Loki would gladly watch Midgard burn—but not if Thor was on it.

Of course, it wasn’t out of any lingering fraternal affection—so he told himself—but what would the trickster god have left to prove if his nemesis were destroyed by another’s hands?

The war had become a protracted siege. The Avengers and other mortal warriors defended Wakanda’s borders, protecting the millions of refugees that had streamed into the kingdom, but even their abundant resources could not last indefinitely. Thanos was no longer advancing in earnest: he was starving them out.

Night after night, Loki watched Thor give his rations to others, insisting that the Æsir could survive much longer without food. It was a painfully familiar scene.

_“You take it, brother. I’m not very hungry,” Thor had assured him with a smile. They had been trapped behind enemy lines in Nornheim, and down to their last loaf of bread. Loki was a mere youth at the time, and he could tell that Thor regretted rushing headlong into danger with his little brother in tow._

_Loki had been about to accuse him of lying—Thor was not very good at it, after all—but the quiet earnestness of Thor’s offer made it difficult to refuse. And Loki’s stomach was starting to hurt with hunger._

_“Go on, brother, eat. It’s alright,” Thor had repeated. And so Loki had._

Shaking away the memory, Loki swallowed back the lump in his throat.

Thor hid it better now, but it was nonetheless obvious that he was exhausted. His usually-ruddy complexion was ashen, and the hand clenched around Mjolnir trembled almost imperceptibly.

He, Stark, Rhodes, the winged man, the witch, and the artificial creature they called the Vision took turns patrolling the sky, protecting the kingdom from aerial attack while the others rested. Yet Thor never rested—he spent his free time wandering among the human refugees, tending to the wounded, comforting the frightened, rallying their spirits with well-meaning lies.

Tonight, for example, while a group of mortals huddled around a small fire to warm themselves, Thor crouched beside them, distracting them with humorous anecdotes. When the firelight threw his face into sharp relief, Loki’s stomach twisted at how _thin_ his resilient brother looked—how many months had he gone without a bite to eat?

“My friends, do not worry,” Thor murmured to the shivering humans, forcing a smile. “These creatures have underestimated us, and it will be their undoing. We are very close to determining their weakness. It is only a matter of time.”

Only Loki, who had known him for a millennium, caught the doubt in his voice.

A distant siren whined—warning of an impending air-raid. Thor quickly helped the humans put out their fire and hide within a shelter, but instead of joining them, he flung himself into the dark sky to join his comrades.

_You idiot_ , Loki wanted to scream. _What use are you to them in this state? You will only get yourself killed._

Heaving an aggravated sigh, Loki followed him.

 

* * *

 

Thor was making one of the largest storms he ever had.

This time, Thanos’s army was not targeting an urban center, but instead dropping bombs on the dense, lush rainforest—the kingdom’s natural resources going up in flames. But it was the rainy season, so Thor took advantage of the clouds of moisture already hanging above the canopy, collecting the mist into a roiling cloud around him.

The air crackled with electricity. Loki could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, felt the heaviness of the coming tempest all the way from his hideaway on the forest floor.

It was as if he were that naïve young prince again, unseen in the shadows, staring up in awe at his brother’s show of power.

But the miniature hurricane did not deter the fleet. Ships—Chitauri vessels, Loki recognized, bile rising in his throat—scattered their missiles so that, just as Thor had doused one forest fire, another one had already sprung up in its place.

_They are trying to wear him down_ , Loki realized; _they are trying to take out their greatest threat._

Whether or not Thor understood the fleet’s true purpose was irrelevant: he would continue to protect his allies until the effort destroyed him.

Loki could feel himself shaking with rage. How _dare_ they? How dare they take advantage of Thor’s nobility in such a way? Perhaps it was mad, to feel so affronted on Thor’s behalf when he had manipulated him similarly in the past, but things had always been thus between them: only Loki was allowed to insult Thor.

Suddenly, a crack of thunder reverberated so loudly that Loki nearly lost his balance. Thor was gathering electricity, poised to strike against the leader of the fleet.

Even from this distance, Loki could see him breathing heavily. It seemed as if Mjolnir was keeping him upright, instead of being directed by him—as if the weapon was supporting her master, and not the reverse. Weakened by hunger and exhaustion, the mighty Thor was almost spent.

One more surge of lightning might kill him.

Loki only had seconds to make a decision, but his thoughts spun rapidly in circles.

If he intervened, he would have to reveal himself.

Thor would know that he was alive, that he was a cowardly, treacherous creature after all.

_Loki died with honor._

Tears mingled with Loki’s bitter laughter. If he saved Thor’s life, he would sacrifice Thor’s love forever. Surviving Svartalfheim was a crime his brother would never forgive.

But what else could he do? _Thor must live._

As much as he prided himself on his sorcery, it had little practical use in battle save for illusions and trickery—mere parlor tricks. If he was to save Thor, he needed more raw elemental energy. He had to turn to the most primitive power he possessed, though he loathed to acknowledge it.

It seemed fitting. Thor was going to despise him anyway if they both survived this—Loki might as well make it easier for him.

Gritting his teeth, he reached with his magic into the between-space where he had stowed the Casket of Ancient Winters.

Just as the day he had used it in the Bifröst Observatory, Loki could barely control the flood of cold air. It was as if he had unleashed a torrential blizzard. The mist in the rainforest instantly crystalized into glistening arcs of ice. Loki willed the ice to creep upward, to reach Thor’s storm clouds miles above and transform them into a solid, hard shield.

Loki was blinded by the rushing snow, so he could not tell for certain if his plan was working. He could feel the Heart of Jotunheim beating in time with his own, pulling from the energy in his very blood as he and the artifact worked toward a common goal. He no longer cared if the exertion killed him, if the Casket refused to let him go. He knew the hideous blue had crept from his hands to cover his body, but he no longer cared.

Thor would finally see the monster’s true face.

Eventually Loki’s vision clouded over with white, and he knew no more.

 

* * *

 

His first sensation was of being very, very cold.

Loki’s head throbbed dully, so he kept his eyes closed, trying to recall where he was. A lumpy cot beneath him. Faint, vaguely familiar voices above him.

“Did you see how it happened?”

“No, just afterward. Still, it’s a gigantic wall of ice in the jungle—obviously something magic—”

“It doesn’t mean we can trust him.”

Loki’s head spun, trying to make sense of the conversation and remember where he had heard those voices before.

“I never said we _should_ , Tony, I’m not stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Loki’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. Of course. He was in the clutches of the Avengers, likely in a makeshift cell where they could keep eyes on him.

“You ever heard the saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”

“After everything he’s done, Cap, I’m surprised you can let that go so easily. Whatever happened to keeping our integrity no matter—”

“I’m not saying forget his crimes, but we can worry about justice once the world is safe. We kind of need all the help we can get, Tony.”

“But—”

“Hang on, Thor’s coming back.”

“Ooo, this should be awkward.”

Loki’s heart was racing. He had thought he was prepared for Thor’s hatred—in the moment, it had been easy to accept that price for saving Thor’s life, but now faced with the consequences, he felt like retching.

He bolted upright so quickly that he nearly collapsed again from dizziness. Apparently creating a miles-high wall of ice took a great deal out of him, Frost Giant nature notwithstanding.

A not-so-gentle hand pushed him back onto the cot. “Whoa there, Reindeer Games, you stay where you are.”

“Am I your prisoner, Stark?” Loki sneered. “How very quaint. You _do_ recall how well that turned out for all of you last time, no?”

Unperturbed, Stark said, “I seem to remember the Hulk beating the shit out of you last time, so yeah, I think I do.”

Loki surreptitiously took in his surroundings. They were in a shallow cave, the weak sunlight supplemented by bright white lanterns. It must have been a kind of makeshift bunker, for there were rows of cots and miscellaneous personal belongings stowed underneath—Loki thought he recognized the quiver resting atop one sleeping bag as Barton’s.

Almost fearing what he would see, Loki sneaked a glance at his own hands. They had returned to their pale Æsir hue. He let out a sigh.

Captain Rogers was watching him—no, _glaring_ would be a more appropriate term—arms folded skeptically.

“You made a barricade against the Chitauri army back there,” Rogers observed. “Want to tell us why?”

“Yeah, weren’t you guys all buddy-buddy a few years ago? Did you have a falling out?” Tony added mockingly.

Loki raised his eyebrows and feigned amusement. “Why, Captain, are you hoping I’ve seen the error of my ways and chosen to protect Midgard? You’re even more naïve than that great oaf—”

A deep voice from behind them interrupted. “Insulting me now would be unwise, brother.”

The color drained from Loki’s face. He could not even manage to maintain the mask of unaffected amusement—his expression must have shown naked dread.

Here they were, face to face for the first time since Svartalfheim. No more illusions. No more lies.

Thor took several slow strides into the cave. His eyes were grave, but otherwise unreadable. Up close, the shadows under his eyes were almost painful to look at.

Loki had wondered what he would ever say, if his deception were ever revealed and he had to face his not-brother one more time. But it all fled his mind. He could not even make a sound, for his throat was too dry.

Thor took a few steps closer, and Loki had never felt more helpless or exposed.

_Here it comes. The accusations, the anger, the betrayal…_

But when Thor still said nothing, Loki wondered if he would strike him dead with a single blow and be done with it. Or perhaps Thor would walk away without a word, finally cutting ties with him forever, feeling nothing for him.

The latter, Loki thought, would destroy him far more agonizingly than the former.

Finally Thor stood a mere pace from him, still stoic and grim. He had never before so uncannily resembled Odin.

Loki shivered in his shadow, waiting for the blow. The outrage. The shouting.

Suddenly he was engulfed in an embrace, tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

“You will never do this to me again,” Thor growled in his ear.

“No, no, I won’t,” Loki sobbed, hardly knowing what he was promising to. It was as if a dam inside of him had broken, and the tears would not stop. “Aren’t—are you not angry?”

“I’m too tired to be angry,” Thor sighed. “When all of this is over, I can be as furious with you as I please, but for now I am _just glad you are alive_.”

Loki’s relief took the form of hysterical laughter.

“Were you in doubt that I would be?” Thor asked, sounding troubled. He still had not let go, as if he could keep his little brother out of trouble by physically holding him in place.

_When I was dead, that was the only time I was honorable in your eyes. What do you think, brother?_

Instead of responding, Loki laid his head on Thor’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth and the delusion of safety while he still could. Perversely, he could not help but ask in a small voice, “You saw, didn’t you? You saw—”

“I saw you nearly kill yourself with a feat of magic I have never seen before,” Thor interrupted firmly. “I saw you do something unpleasant to protect me, and I am grateful, brother.”

It was finally sinking in, that his greatest fears were _not_ about to be realized—so why did Loki still feel just as terrified to be forgiven as he had been to be disowned?

Hastily, Loki wormed himself out of Thor’s arms.

“One noble act does not erase my myriad sins, Thor. It does not change the fact that I am a monster, through and through. How can you thank me after what I have put you through?”

Thor’s eyes darkened dangerously. “I know what you are doing, brother, and this is not the time. You will not save me by pushing me away.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked sharply.

“I _know_ , Loki. You made a deal with Thanos that you could not keep, and now you hide from him to elude his wrath.”

Loki’s mouth fell open in astonishment. Thor had put the pieces together at last, and shown uncharacteristic insight in doing so. Despite himself, Loki was impressed.

“No more running away. We will face this _together_.” Thor gathered him back into his arms, and this time Loki allowed himself to melt into the embrace. The frustration in Thor’s voice softened. “I cannot lose you again, brother. I’m not…I’m not strong enough.”

_I thought you could only love me if I were dead. Can’t you understand that I was afraid?_

Loki could not answer aloud, so he tightened his grip on Thor’s cape, as if nothing could ever prise them apart again.

Much to his surprise, Thor stepped back suddenly.

“And the next time you find yourself in over your head—and don’t promise it won’t happen again, I know you too well—you come to _me_ for help, understood? None of this faking your death nonsense. You are not nearly as infallibly clever as you think you are, Loki.”

Loki scowled, but before he could make an acidic retort, someone cleared their throat. The brothers had been so caught up in their reunion that they had altogether forgotten the awkward presence of Stark and Rogers.

“Much as we hate to interrupt this touching family therapy session,” Tony said, “there is kind of a war going on, you know?”

“Your barricade actually froze a lot of the Chitauri ships,” the captain explained, “but it probably won’t hold indefinitely, so we need to come up with a long-term plan.”

“I must bring you to speak with the Panther,” said Thor. At Loki’s questioning look, he added, “The king of this realm is young, but he is wise and discerning for his years. If you are to assist us, it will only be with his permission.”

“You all seem under the impression that I am intending to join your efforts to save Midgard,” Loki said through gritted teeth.

“It won’t erase your crimes against New York, but it’s a good start,” Rogers said with a shrug.

“When Father realizes we are both on this realm, aiding the mortals, I think he will relent,” Thor added in a low voice.

Loki laughed. “Why should _my_ presence change his mind? Unless he sends troops to capture and imprison me, that is.”

“He has always trusted me to look after myself, even in my youth,” Thor said thoughtfully. “He allowed me to learn from my mistakes by experiencing the consequences. But you—you are the youngest, physically more vulnerable, and he has always sought to protect you from harm.”

“Are you truly that deluded? The All-Father has sworn me off entirely—”

“Because he was rightfully angry, but if he sees you in harm’s way—”

“Are you using me to gain Asgard’s support? I can’t even be annoyed, that’s a devious plan worthy of _me_.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you’re pleased. Now will you meet with King T’challa and I, or must I drag you there?”

Loki heaved a dramatic sigh. “I still say your plan is ludicrous and rests on illogical assumptions, but if it is the best chance you have, I will remain here with you,” he said reluctantly.

At these words, Thor’s smile was breathtaking—as though the sun had finally burst through the clouds in winter. It was almost worth the sacrifice of Loki’s dignity, though he would never say as much.

“Lead on, warriors. Let us meet this wise Midgardian king,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

As the four left the cave together, Thor spoke rapturously about the great kingdom of Wakanda, their glorious history, the technology that more closely resembled that of Vanaheim or Alfheim in its advancement, and how deeply he respected their king’s commitment to peace. Loki shook his head, scarcely believing his once-bloodthirsty brother had matured so much in a few short years. Perhaps there was some hope after all.

And all the while, Thor’s hand never left his shoulder, as if to make sure that he was truly there. As if to make sure he did not slip through his fingers again.

Loki didn’t mind.


End file.
